Her Artist
by The-Queen-Of-Wolves-12
Summary: Alternate Universe: Set in somewhat of a victorian like societal Westeros. Stannis is a well renowned artist. Sansa is his model.


Stannis was appalled: his oaf of a brother called upon him to use his formidable talents to paint some outrageous society woman. But his brother insisted "She is my goddaughter, brother." Robert has huffed "It is her coming of age! It is a past time that we must uphold". So, the all-mighty Stannis Baratheon caved. If only to stop his brother from blabbering on and on about it.

Stannis Baratheon was not only a Lord held in high esteem among society, he was a formidable artist well renowned for his stunning works: he has painted many pieces ranging from landscapes of his home "Storms End" to works of his brothers, Robert and his children and his youngest brother, Renly; among the roses he's so liked very much. At a very young age, Stannis had been gifted with the finest paints and canvases by his adoring mother. At the time he was awestruck by all the beautiful colour's and what he could do with them: his first painting had been of his childhood pet, his goshawk "Proudwing". His mother applauded his talents and begged him to paint and draw more, and so he did. Not long after, his dear mother was taken from him in the horrific boat capsize that killed both of his parents. He only continued for that sake of her.

Stannis begrudgingly packed his art satchel and makes his way to the Stark estate: Off to paint a portrait for the societal beauty Sansa Stark. He was not happy about it.

'_A waste of my good paints.'_ he thought as his horse walked up the grey stone drive of the Starks estate. He was to spend countless hours painting this simpering lady, and he was going to be bored out of his mind. Why did his oaf of a brother have to talk him into this?

He ground his teeth together as he brought his fist up to the door and knocked. The door opened to show a small boy with dark brown hair and grey eyes, no older than ten years of age. The boy peered up at Stannis inquisitively. "My name is Stannis Baratheon; I am here to paint the Lady Sansa Stark." Stannis preferred not to use his title as Lord when corresponding with clients. For some reason, it made them more relaxed and much easier to paint.

The young boy nodded "Please come in, I shall fetch my sister." the boy opened the door ajar to let the Lord in "Wait here please." The boy said before walking up the grand staircase, limping up each step slightly.

While Stannis waited, he had the opportunity to gaze around the great Stark mansion, it had been many years since he has stepped foot inside. He tries to think back to the last time, concluding that it must've been his brother Robert's party where he celebrated his last night as a free man before he was to join Cersei Lannister in holy matrimony. So, a very very long time ago.

Stannis was brought from his thoughts when he heard footsteps echoing down the stairs, he looked up and was momentarily stunned. The woman that walked towards him was tall, almost as tall as him, yet slender with beautiful long red or was it copper coloured hair. Stannis did not know. She wore a stunning yet modest dress of pale blue that did wonders to brighten her blue eyes. The woman smiles warmly, as her feet touch the bottom of the staircase, her bright blue eyes locking Stannis into place.

"Lord Baratheon!" She curtsied perfectly "His Grace, King Robert sent word that you would be painting me." She smiled again. Stannis resisted the urge to grind his teeth. She was a simpering society woman just like the rest of them. "I must say I was incredibly stunned when His Grace did inform me, considering you are one of the most sort after artists in the seven kingdoms. I am incredibly grateful that you have taken on this task." Lady Sansa bowed her head slightly, the warm smile still gracing her full red lips.

Stannis uncomfortable with situations such as these nodded "Shall we begin?" He asked gruffly.

The lady nodded, the striking colour of her fiery hair catching in the dim sunlight that enveloped the foyer. "Lead the way"

Day after day Stannis Baratheon returned to the Stark mansion to finish the commission that his brother so greatly begged him to do. In the time that he worked, Stannis was happy to say that Lady Sansa was a pleasant model. She sat still and listened when Stannis instructed her to do something. This pleased him greatly. When he had painted his brother's wife many years ago, the Lannister lion has made those days a living hell for him. Stannis had refused to paint her ever again.

One early afternoon Stannis was at work, the colours on his pallet blending and transforming on the canvas with the stroke of his paintbrush when the Lady Sansa broke the dull silence that has been surrounding them the last few days.

"My Lord?" She never forgot to use his proper title; Stannis noted, looking slightly up from his canvas. He huffed his acknowledgment waiting for her to continue. "Why painting my Lord?" It was a simple question that brought Stannis's brush to a halt.

"It is something I enjoy." Stannis answered quickly, the lady smiled "But surely that is not the only reason as to why you paint?"

Stannis ground his teeth; he was not one to share something so close to him. Only his brothers knew why he painted. The public had never asked, so he had never felt the need to share such information. He gazed at the young woman before him, no older than eighteen years of age and at that moment, Stannis felt himself slip, his heart thudded in his chest.

"My mother..." he breathed deeply "she brought me paints when I was a young boy and encouraged me to paint all the beauty of the world."

Across from him, the gorgeous Sansa Stark smiled warmly as Stannis shared this little piece of himself "I paint now for her, for her memory!" He explained, going back to his paint board and picking another colour.

"I am sorry my Lord, for your loss." She apologised. And for some reason unlike everyone else who had ever offered him sympathy's in regard to his parents' demise, her words were sincere.

Stannis swallowed hard.

It takes a whole month for the portrait of Sansa Stark to be anywhere near close to finished. In that time Stannis had let more and more of himself out around the beautiful Sansa Stark. She asked questions and was generally interested in his life. This surprised Stannis. In that time Sansa also took it upon herself to share titbits about herself. About snow days with her siblings and how her sister Arya liked to pull her hair when they were young; trivial things really. But some that made the storm Lord break his stony façade, a small smile making its way onto his thin lips. From what he shared of his brothers; she could tell he was not overly loved. This saddened the young girl; all people should know what love feels like.

He was not overly handsome, but he was very tall. Much taller than herself. His slowly greying hair was cropped close to his head, yet he showed minimal signs of balding. His eyes were what struck Sansa the most, they were the brightest blue she had ever seen; brighter than the Tully eyes in which she had inherited from her mother. His powerful stare suggested that he was not a man to be trifled with. He was strong and loyal. He was everything Sansa had wanted in a husband. She no longer wished for the golden princes from her childhood stories, especially after what she had endured at the hand of one golden prince. No now Sana wanted someone like her father. Someone strong and honourable.

'_As if the Lord wanted to tie himself to her.' _She thought to herself, letting out a small sigh that drew the Lord's attention. "Are you well, my lady?" He asked, genuinely concerned for the lady's well-being.

She nodded, before going quiet. She did not speak for the rest of the night.

The portrait was completed… Stannis should feel relieved. He wasn't. For now, the time that he had spent with the Lady Sansa was over. At first, he thought it would be boring and taxing on himself, a waste of his talent. But in the month or so that he spent with the Lady Sansa, getting to know her; he came to realise that she wasn't like all the other ladies of society; she was so much different.

She was genuinely kind, respectful, intelligent; their conversations had varied over the days and he had noticed how smart the lady was. She spoke of the great wars of the past with great historical detail, of strategies and power; of entrancing literature about the social structure of their society and how their science of the seven kingdoms was underdeveloped, unlike the free cities where they were far more advanced. She was passionate about the topics that she enjoyed.

He has grown fond of this fiery lady and now the portrait was finished and so was their friendship…

The party was in full swing when the Lady Sansa Stark had arrived, it was a party for her but one she wished not to attend for she was to have to endure the affections of her Uncle Petyr and the Prince Joffrey. A year before she had been betrothed to the latter, she was to be his Queen. In time, Sansa came to realise that the prince did not act like a true prince; not like the ones her stories spoke of. Joffrey was cruel, the mutilated bodies of the younger prince Tommen's cats attesting to that. The bruises that he left on her body attested to that. At the time she feared him, feared what would happen to her family if the betrothal was to be broken. That was until her little sister had seen the bruises. The little stark girl has dragged her sister before her father and shown him the brutality that Sansa had faced. Eddard Stark was outraged. The Betrothal was broken, and the king was furious with his son. Joffrey paid for his crimes; the king even went so far as to remove the prince from the line of succession until he would change and act as his station demanded. The Queen had been furious, but one look from the golden lion had forced her mouth shut.

The Lady Sansa did what was expected of her, she made small talk with the courtiers, she thanked them for their well wishes. She danced with the knights and Lords that begged for her attention. She avoided her Uncle's lingering touch and the cruel words of the unchanged prince all night until it all became overwhelming. She snuck away to a secluded room far from the crowded ballroom. The dull noise of the massive crowd could still be heard.

Sansa sighed, her Tully blue eyes roaming the room until they came to a stop; at the far end of the room a painting stood upon a pedestal, well the lady assumed it was a painting, she couldn't tell due to the large white sheet that covered it.

Curious Sansa walked closer, her fingertips whispering over the white fabric of the sheet. She looked around the room making sure she was truly alone before she pulled the sheet from the canvas.

She gasped in awe, there painted exquisitely among the canvas was herself. This was her portrait. "It was to be unveiled tonight, my Lady." Sansa gasped again she turned quickly to the sound of _his _voice.

"Is that why I was forbidden to look upon it?" she asked quietly, stepping towards the imposing form of Lord Stannis Baratheon. He was dressed formally yet was not wearing anything ostentatious like many of the other Lords; the gold trim of a stag on his breast was the only sign of the wealth he possessed.

"Yes. The King wished to see your face when it was revealed." He replied. Sansa turned back to the painting. It captured her perfectly, her fiery hair surrounding her like a blanket, the pale blue dress from their first meeting produced perfectly down to the finest detail. Her image was one of ethereal beauty… she looked like a goddess.

"It is beautiful."

Stannis nodded; he was not a man of many words. "I only paint what I see my lady." Was his retort, his way of saying _'You are beautiful.' _

Sansa smiled walking towards the stoic man, her hand coming up to cup his cheek; his skin was smooth; he had shaven for tonight's occasion. "Thank you." She understood him perfectly. Understood his veiled words and their meanings even if the Lord didn't notice them himself. Stannis leaned into her warm palm, what was this woman doing to him. He was warm all over, he felt at ease in her company. The two locked eyes, two vastly different blues stared into each other.

Sansa's fingers patted softly at his cheek.

Stannis sighed. Sansa smiled.

She moved closer to him, her slender body moulding into his. Her eyes darted down his face until they landed on his thin lips. She turned her head upwards and brought her lips to his in a soft timid kiss; consciously afraid of his rejection. Stannis simply pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her slender body, his hands going straight to her fiery hair, tugging slightly earning an earnest moan from the recipient.

Sometime later the need for air broke the two from their lip-locked embrace. Stannis started to speak, Sansa interrupted "Don't," her hand went back to his cheek performing their earlier ministrations "I have wanted to do that since the moment I met you. Don't ruin it."

So, he didn't.


End file.
